


Quotient

by PseudonymVirtue



Category: Final Fantasy IX
Genre: Drama, F/M, Post-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-31 02:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19417012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PseudonymVirtue/pseuds/PseudonymVirtue
Summary: n The number of times one amount is contained in another; the result of dividing one number by another; the magnitude of a specified characteristic or quality. A Zidane Tribal character study.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This little oneshot collection was originally posted to ff.net in 2010. I'm revisiting the fandom after a recent replay and re-falling in love with this game, so I'm working on 1-2 pieces for this series right now. This was written nearly nine (yikes!) years ago and is not a reflection of my more recent work. However, I thought I'd post it here anyways!

**Discipline 1/3**

"Geez!" The boy yelped as he dodged yet another sickening blow. His tail flailed frantically in sporadic fluid motions, as if desperately attempting to channel the hostility he was receiving to elsewhere.

The older man cackled. "C'mon kid," He snarled, mismatched teeth gleaming through an unkempt beard, "You can do better than that."

Zidane's eyes narrowed. Old man definitely had a sick sense of parenting sometimes.

Baku continued, "Next time you shoot me those smart-ass comments it's only gonna get worse than this, you hear?"

His blow directed towards the boy's abdomen was precisely aimed. So he still wasn't so quick after all.

Zidane hunched over. This was it. This was the end. He could only groan in response.

Several onlooking chuckles were his only applause.

"Right." He croaked.

* * *

**First Time**

Julia Archibald was a relatively good-looking girl. Not beautiful or anything like that, but she sure was cute. But she was also rich, older, and experienced. And that made up for the not-so-beautiful part.

Bright blue eyes spread wide as he dumbly scanned the girl before him. She smiled back at him as the last remaining garment dropped to the floor at her feet.

His heart was pounding violently. Was it still with the rest of his insides? He couldn't tell.

"Well?"

She took a step towards him.

"Oh-right!" He blurted, and his nervous fingers began their comical fumbling with his trousers.

'Play it cool,' He reminded himself, 'Everything's cool. Everything's cool. Everything's cool…'

He was right. They had flirted with one another for weeks. When the noble born heiress invited him to sneak into her room that night, it was more than a typical social call. He had recieved all kinds of support and tips from his Tantalus brothers, but like most thirteen year old boys, he didn't exactly have much of a chance to use them.

* * *

**Belonging 1/3**

"What's up?" Blank nudged his friend lightly. The kid had been quiet a lot lately. It was funny- he'd thought that a kid like him that had just started getting laid would have a lot more to say to the world.

Zidane shrugged. "No idea."

Blank snorted. "So you're spending all this time thinking about nothing?"

"Where did I come from?"

His words were thick and blurted in such a way they took the older boy by surprise. He inhaled sharply, unsure of how to reply. Men in Tantalus rarely got that kind of deep. And when they did, things got ugly for their feelings. He scratched the back of his head in thought.

"Man, I always wonder the same thing."

Zidane turned towards him, squarely facing his companion. "You wonder where you came from too?"

"No I'm well informed of that." The red haired adolescent rapidly shoved the images of prostitutes and shady alleys from his mind.

"I mean, where the hell did you come from?"

A loud, deafening thud resounded as the blonde boy impulsively swung himself around, meeting the brick wall's impact with his fist.

* * *

**Theater Script**

Tantalus was best known for it's shady contacts throughout Lindbulm. Some considered Baku a wise investment, and others an unwanted obnoxious menace. But all parties agreed that the otherwise unlearned man knew how to put on a show.

All Zidane ever bothered reading were scripts for plays. Round pools of cerulean darted across one page after another, paper scorched with wear of human hands. He sometimes sat cross legged in bed the whole night through, sometimes memorizing, sometimes simply studying. The boy unknowingly rocked himself slightly, as if in a trance.

Sometimes Baku witnessed it himself. And he had to admit, it was a little disturbing. But if that's what it took for the kid to get his part straight, then that was fine by him.

Thief in the Night

"Who're you?"

The blonde boy froze. This wasn't supposed to happen. He was to sneak in the great Baron's home through his daughter's window, and obtain the key to Treno's sewers. Something valuable was rumored to be hidden there, and Tantalus wanted in.

Of course he was given the task of sneaking. He was the fastest- and smallest. The iron key's chill in his warm, coarse hands provided no protection from the little girl's frightened gaze.

He raised a finger to his lips softly.

She sat up in the elegant bed- too elegant for a child her age he decided.

"Are you a thief?"

He shook his head.

"A monster?"

Her big green eyes wandered to the furry tail waving before her.

He shook his head again.

The iron key was starting to feel warm now. He had to leave quickly, before the girl's parents woke at the sound of her voice.

"Gotta go." He hopped lightly to the grand chest before her open window that he had so tactfully crept through earlier that night- the only open window in the house.

The movement startled her. She watched as he glanced over his shoulder in her direction one last time, and leaped into the night.

She scrambled out of the bed and climbed onto the chest where the older boy had been a moment before, her soft padded feet slapped at the hardwood floor sweetly.

Chubby hands gripped the windowsill as she leaned out into the night air.

"Wait!" She called. Her eyes scanned the streets below frantically, desperately searching for the lean, yet subtly muscular form she had only just discovered.

A door down the hall opened and closed. Someone was coming. She gasped and scrambled quickly back to bad. Father and Mother hated it when she wasn't in bed after bedtime.


	2. Part 2

**Departure**

"So… you're out then?"

Zidane shrugged in response. He simply continued to repack the leather bag on his bed. This was one of his many attempts that morning; he'd grown considerably in the past year and it took him forever to find clothing that was sure to fit and last.

"Boss is gonna be pissed, you know."

Zidane simply swung the bag over his shoulder, securing twin daggers in place so that they would be easily accessible if need be. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, gazing around the room one last time to ensure everything was set. And no Baku in sight.

"Once you go, you can't come back, you know that rules."

"Yeah. I'll be okay."

"I'm just curious why you're kicking us to the curb for people that don't matter."

"They matter to me."

Zidane walked past Blank and into the sunlight Lindbulm streets with every intention of returning someday, no matter what.

* * *

**Corset**

When it came time for her to redress, he took her by utter surprise when he assisted her in the assembly of the garment. She'd been with many young travelers such as him, and she had always enjoyed it, but never had she experienced such tenderness as was being expressed to her now. Men she knew didn't do such things; they lay and either watched and or simply slept soundly.

His fingers were just as skilled and quick as they had been earlier. She found it overwhelmingly endearing, how his naked body was now kneeling behind her, silently focused on a task that was typically hers and hers alone. Her dark eyes were know brimmed with tears, and she wasn't exactly sure why.

At last he pulled gently on the laces, obviously pleased with his work. It was then he noticed a muffled sob and paused.

"Um… is it too tight or something?"

She shook her head. "It's perfect. Just tie it already, please." Her voice cracked during the last syllable. Unlike before, it resounded with painful insecurities, brought to the surface by some unfamiliar emotion she was now experiencing.

"Are you okay?" He was now securing the ties as instructed.

"I'm fine." And with that she quickly hopped up, slipped her blue dress over her head, donned her shoes, and scrambled out the inn's guestroom door, leaving her lover with a fleeting view of the knotted messy curls of her flaxen hair.

His brows furrowed and he crossed his arms. "Did I do something…?" He wondered out loud.

Just when he thought he had them figured out, women did something else that absolutely stumped him.

__

* * *

**Hunger**

His stomach was groaning uncontrollably. Despite his vigorous attempt at frugalism throughout his journey so far, he was left for starvation. Starved, broke, and absolutely no leads as to what he had been searching for the past few months.

It was painful now. It was the rare kind of pain that brought tears to his eyes regardless of the dehydration he was currently suffering from.

Nothing. This road must lead to exactly that. According to his map and formerly uncanny sense of direction, he was supposed to have reached a village about a day ago.

The world around him began to spin with a violence that increased by the second. His steps became increasingly labored, and he wanted more than anything to vomit. Bright blue lights and blackness overtook his vision, and began falling.

"Am I there?" He wondered. Was this the end? Was he dead, or did he stumble upon his beginnings?

Old Stan halted the chocobo abruptly. Something wasn't right. His usual trade route by chocobo cart was a routine scenery, yet something was different.

He sighed. He was ahead of schedule, and Old Stan was definitely the compulsive inquisitive type. That usual line of reeds behind him were matted, some broken. Maybe monster hunters had made their path? Or had something lain to die?

He turned the cart around abruptly, unable to shake the thought.

Destinations

"My name is Freya."

He nodded and shook her outreached hand. "Zidane."

She nodded. "It's lucky I showed up, you looked like you were in quite a situation."

He lazily smirked and stretched his arms, as if the slain beast before them was no big deal. "I wouldn't say that…"

She exhaled sharply. This guy was full of himself. She chose to ignore his prominent arrogence. "Where are you headed to?"

"Not exactly sure." His arms relaxed. "Somewhere I haven't been before."

"So you travel with no direction?" She inquired, ignoring the smug wink he'd just thrown her way.

"No, I mean," He ran his hands through his hair and watched as she yanked her javelin from the corpse. "I'm looking for something. I'm just not sure what."

She eyed the blade critically. No damage. Needed some immediate cleaning, however.

"You don't know what you're looking for?"

He shrugged. "Um, I guess not. Unless you know of anything about blue light?"

She looked at him and snorted, now wiping the blade against the scrap fabric from her pocket. "A blue light? Are you serious?"

He shrugged again. "Exactly."

A silent pause ensued until finally the female Burmecian knight spoke again.

"Well let's go then, it looks like we both have some work to do."

He nodded. "Alright. I can always use a pretty lady by my side."

She ignored the comment. The two newly found companions began their way down the hill where they had recently found one another.

"Hey, Freya?"

"Yes?"

"What are you looking for?"

She sighed. "It's a long story."

"Well, we still have a long road ahead of us."

He was right. Perhaps she would benefit from his company.

"His name is Sir Fratley…"

* * *

**Discipline 2/3**

"Hey Boss, I'm back!" He dropped his bag triumphantly at the older man's feet.

Baku stood up from the stool and shook his head. "You decided to come back, huh?"

"Yeah. So you guys miss me, or what?"

Knuckles crackled purposefully.


	3. Part 3

**The Plan**

"Here's the plan!"

Baku stood before model Alexandria castle that Cinna had so painstakingly constructed.

 _'Leave it to Cinna to make a perfect to-scale dollhouse.'_ Zidane thought to himself buoyantly.

Prior to all Tantalus operations, (especially ones considered high risk) there was a briefing of sorts beforehand. It consisted of who did what, how it was done, that sort of thing. But in Zidane's mind it was unnecessary. He would be the star of the operation, as far as he was concerned.

_'I wonder if she's as cute as everyone cracks her up to be…'_

"…I'll distract the audience from backstage with these little buggers." Blank cringed at the small insect cage and muttered, "I can't stand oglops." At the sound of light sniggers from the men around him he quickly added, "-But I'll manage, so don't worry about me."

Zidane smirked and drummed his thumbs impatiently against the back support of the seat that he currently rested his arms upon. "That's when I kidnap Queen Brahne, right?"

"You bet!" Baku agreed, "You're gonna kidnap the fat-ass, butt-ugly Queen Br-"

He paused, bewildered. Zidane innocently maintained his eye contact.

"Wha…" His adoptive father squinted as if deep in concentration. "What'm I sayin?"

"That's when I kidnap Princess Garnet, right?"

Across the room, Blank rolled his eyes.

* * *

**Dual**

"'Tis foolishness! If all were so easy, why, none would suffer in this world!" Zidane called dramatically, chasing Blank across the ramparts of the prop castle.

His confidence often overtook his audience. Zidane knew scripts better than anyone.

"Aha!" Blank evaded his wooden blade.

This dual was the last scene before he and Blank began their movement into the castle.

The two were the perfect duo for this role in the operation. Blank specialized in various concoctions, to include the sleeping grass that would be consumed by the Princess, undetected by anyone else to include her royal guard. Zidane had maintained being the fastest in the group, which would prove useful in the technicalities of the operation.

"En garde!"

"Expect no quarter from me!"

Portait

Although his steps where muffled by the fancy carpet, they seemed to echo through the empty room. He scratched his side uncomfortably. Blank was right- these uniforms were crap for comfort.

His steps were cut short. He gasped and jumped back, immediately caught off guard.

"Hey, what's-" Blank stopped short.

Zidane stared at the sight before them, and shook his head. "You mean you never discovered this in the recon?" His voice faltered slightly.

Blank opened his mouth to reply, and failed to speak. He tried again. "T-This wasn't here before…" was all he could manage.

Zidane inhaled slowly. "Why… why would they…"

Blank shuddered. "No, idea man. But this is really sick."

Queen Brahne's portrait seemed to sneer down at the pair, complete with royal garbs and a fluffy cat in hand.

* * *

**Greetings**

A distinctly slender feminine figure stood defensively before him, but that wasn't an issue. The issue was the fact that the face of this nice little body was concealed. Did royal Alexandrian help have to cover their faces nowadays or something? She must be pretty cute.

"Um, will you let me pass?" Her voice immediately intrigued him. It had a soft sweetness to it, yet failed to cover a certain nervous note.

"Hmm…" He studied the girl, resuming his role as a castle guard. Definitely some nice legs.

He stepped closer taking the opportunity to examine the girl's hooded face.

"Let's see…" He got close enough to get a good angle.

_'Nice!'_

She was _hot_! Carefully groomed black strands framed the lovely porcelain features.

He stared.

Something wasn't right. Girls didn't look like this.

Her dark eyes strayed from his awed gaze self consciously, as if looking him in the eye would cause her some kind of harm.

Normal girls didn't look like this.

"Is there something on my face?" Her eyes flickered his way again for a fraction of a second.

"Oh, no." He swallowed. Could this really be? Why would a Princess hide under a cloak and snoop around her own home in the middle of a show? He smiled, and did exactly what he felt was appropriate on the occasion where he was confronted with such a beauty.

"You see… I just thought maybe you were the one I'd been waiting for all this time."

Ebony brows furrowed, puzzled. " Excuse me? You were waiting for me?"

"Yeah! I've dreamt of meeting you here ever since I was born!" His excitement was evident, making the girl increasingly nervous.

"Do you mock me?" She was glaring now.

"No, of course not."

She sighed impatiently. This knight lacked any sense of common manners and courtesies, addressing her in such a way. "Then I shall take my leave of you!"

He blocked her escape. "Just a sec! Haven't we met before?"

Her nervous eyes maintained their constant increasing defiance and desperation. "No, I do not know you."

He found that he loved the sound of her voice. If it wasn't her voice, it was her distinctive accent that nobility often had. Did she really think she was fooling anyone?

"Maybe you're right," He smiled and watched her lips tremble with every note. "I'd never let someone as pretty as you get away."

Blank arrived at the top of the stairs. The gig was up. "Hey, what's going on, Zidane?"

"I-I must go!" The Princess's panic was blunt now, and with that, she took off.

"Who the hell was that?" The red haired man's eyes wide with confusion.

"C'mon Blank! That was Princess Garnet!"

**Jump**

The Prima Vista swung violently, quickly making it's furious descent into the Evil Forest. When his body was slammed against the wall of the prop castle, one thing came to mind.

He would never exactly call this night something pleasant, but there was something obscure that he had felt when he watched the Princess fall gracefully from the tower, eyes serenely locked on his.

How did she know she would survive? Did she have that much faith in him, her captor, or was her faith within herself? Or perhaps growing up in such a bleak, overbearing structure, she had planned the jump out or boredom or obscurity one day?

Why did she even run from him if she wanted him to take her away?

He shook the wandering thought.

Smoke infested his lungs and he began to cough. Flames towered over him-he was stranded. He cried out as he was thrust in the opposite direction: the edge of the deck. Pain shot through his back, radiating sharply up his neck as it had been taking the majority of the impact. He gained his footing, looked over the ledge and gained a clear view of the forest trees getting rapidly closer and without thinking, he jumped.

It was some years later when he realized his best choices were made when didn't think at all.


	4. Part 4

**In a Name**

Zidane sighed. Dali was in view, yet due to recent events, this trip was proving itself to be increasingly complicated. Tantalus was off in who knows where, Blank was indefinitely petrified, and thanks to a certain rusty oaf there was no alone time in sight with the hottest chick he'd ever seen.

His thoughts wandered to her newly picked name. He would be in denial if he said he wasn't falling for her, because he was. In the past several days she had single-handedly maneuvered her way into the hands of Tantalus by intention, ran through the Evil Forest with him (Along with Vivi and Rusty), froze in the Ice Cavern, proven herself a valuable asset in battle, and assumed her new identity as the common girl named Dagger.

Girls came and went. But her polished accent and polite smiles in his direction somehow induced an involuntary physical reaction in him. He never realized how his toes would first curl and relax, followed by the enthusiastic flitter of his tail.

He was downright excited when she picked her new name. Of all the names she could've chosen (he had a few suggestions himself), she decided on the weapon that he had carried on himself for years. The weapon that had often saved his ass in conflict (drunken or otherwise), and accompanied him at his side during the night.

And from that point on, the word would roll of his tongue in giddy flutter. Whether his statement was determined to be in context of weapon or woman, he hoped that maybe one day they could be one in the same.

* * *

**Mutuality**

Zidane stretched lazily from where he lay on the grassy floor, the dying embers radiated the last of the campfire's heat, and a familiar throb plagued his upper back.

He'd suffered a wound around there initially back at the shipwreck site in the Evil Forest, and it had reopened several times since then. Dagger's magic usually did the trick, but it was a sore, hot lump now.

"Are you alright?"

He jumped, snapping his head instantly in the direction that familiar voice had come from.

She emerged gracefully from the rocks beside him. Long ebony tendrils of wet clumps hung her face, fresh from her bath in the small waterfall below. Puzzled, she scanned the area for the cause of his disturbance.

He shook his head sharply. "I'm fine. You scared the crap out of me just now, that's all."

She giggled. "I'm sorry."

He waved his hand, dismissing the act.

Vivi's light snores sifted through the night air on Pinnacle Rocks. That kid could probably sleep through a hurricane if it came down to it.

She walked softly across the thick grass and seated herself on a small boulder across from him. He always took note of her body language: how she sat with her knees together, hands clasped together in her lap.

Tonight her prose was far more defensive than it was proper, as she hugged her knee towards her chest timidly. It irritated him to know something had disturbed her typical mannerisms he had grown so fond of.

"So what's up? You wanna talk about anything?" The silence was making him uneasy. It's not every day you narrowly escape execution ordered by your own mother.

She shrugged, an imitation of his own body language. "No. I just hope I can complete Ramuh's task."

"You'll be fine. We've done harder things than this, and we've got two pieces so far. Easy." He smiled reassuringly.

She mirrored the notion. "I suppose."

Her gaze made him forget his current painful predicament. He looked back at her, and leaned back against his elbows casually, hoping she might possibly be as entranced in the blue of his eyes as he was in the darkness of hers.

It was when the tender lump was pressurized between his own body and an opposing rigid stone that his longing was cut short with a yelp and a sharp breath sucked in between his teeth.

Dagger gasped, unsure of what had triggered his sudden outburst.

"Zidane!"

He sat up now, waving her back. "I'm fine." He rubbed the tender spot slightly, in attempt to alleviate the painful sore.

She shook her head. "Zidane, let me see."

He beamed. "You mean you want me to take my shirt off?"

She rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't say that." Her voice was stern.

He smiled even wider. "Well, if you insist-" He turned his head from her and winced as he lifted the garment over his head in a single, fluid motion.

"I-I just wanted to see what it was."

"So… you didn't want me to take my shirt off?"

She sighed and walked to him, carefully averting her gaze toward the ground, looking at his bare back only as necessary as she knelt behind him. She found herself grateful for the night's lack of color, as her cheeks were filled with hot blood.

She identified the culprit on his back immediately. "I knew something was wrong." She murmured.

He suppressed his situational induced enthusiasm as much as possible.

"You were favoring your right side more than usual today," She continued, "Even after every time I attempted to heal you."

"Oh I see. I thought maybe you were just paying me extra attention."

She disregarded the comment. "It's an abscess. Why haven't you said anything?"

"I don't know."

He watched her as she rose from behind him and walked to her tent. She reemerged a moment later, with a hand sized leather package in hand.

"What's that?"

She knelt behind him again, reluctantly watching the muscles of his back glide with his every slight movement. It was more out of curiosity than blunt attraction, she immediately reassured herself. She'd never seen a bare man before. Up until now, Steiner had been able to ensure that much.

"A surgical set." She replied, eyeing the white lump with determination.

"S-surgery?" His head was turned as far as he could make it go, watching her every move.

"Yes." She smiled, lightly endeared by his sudden anxiety. "It's not complicated or anything. You injured yourself a while ago, you see, and the wound was just never properly taken care of-"

"But I've had all sort of things happen to me and I've never needed surgery before." His voice was panicked now, and he watched her lean around him to arrange a small finger sized blade on the red embers before them.

"It just became badly infected, that's all. The infection built to the point that it made a tender bump, pressing and stretching everything else." Her eyes strayed up and down his back again, and she immediately redirected her attention.

"So they teach Princesses surgery nowadays, huh."

She leaned forward around him again, turning the hot blade over.

"No. I've just been studying simple things like this lately. I figured there would come a time when I needed it."

He said nothing.

She drew the blade from the heat, and expertly made her incision in the swollen tissue of his back, eliciting a strained grunt from her patient.

"Shiiiiiiiiiit." He moaned through clenched teeth.

She set the blade beside her and slid a strip of gauze up his back, catching the yellow pus that had begun to drip down.

She focused on the sickening discharge, rather than the taut flesh that she now glided the fabric over, stretching it temporarily before it assumed it's natural position that she was now so newly introduced to.

"That's the worst of it."

He exhaled slowly. "I think it feels better already. Thanks, Dagger."

He looked at her again, watching her hands this time. Long, pale fingers.

Her cheeks burned even more furiously. She was now pressing a new piece of gauze into the incision site, collecting the last of the infectious fluid.

The stench was so rancid it made her dizzy. Her thoughts were becoming increasingly foreign as she wondered fleetingly what he could possibly look like from the front. At that very thought, she forced herself to stop and think about the foul odor instead.

Could this be what he thought about with her? His comments were sometimes awfully brutal.

It was a silent moment as she packed the wound with clean gauze, and he helped her by tying another lengthy piece across his front in order to secure the dressing in place.

"We'll have to change it every day at least once a day until it closes. We should be able to buy an antiseptic when we arrive in Lindbulm."

He nodded.

She passed him his shirt and collected the pus stained gauze for disposal.

He sighed and slipped the shirt on as easily as it had come off, disappointed. She didn't even seem remotely turned on.

Despite her protest, he tested his now open wound against the rock again: Some pain, but not nearly what it had been.

He didn't dare imagine the situation in reverse. If he'd so much as glimpsed at an inch of her naked back…

* * *

**Whiskey**

"Dagger…"

Maggie was typically capable of disregarding her customers, save for the instance of beneficial transactions of course. But this guy was a piece of work. He had been sulking there on the stool since the start of her shift.

Aside from spending copious amounts of money on alcohol, he looked like hell. Unshaven, heavy lidded, and slurring. She sighed. It was just another aspect of her job.

"Are you on your cozy throne already?" He wailed miserably.

'Who has a name like Dagger? And why would she have a throne?' She suppressed a chuckle.

"No, no, no!"

She peaked up over the counter. If this guy kept it up he was going to drive away her usual crowd. She nervously watched as his knee bounced against the surface of the table.

"I can't start my day without Dagger!"

_'I wish his friends would show up again and take him home or something…'_

"Her smile!"

_'I wonder if I should do something about him now…'_

"Her voice!"

He was looking her square in the eye now.

_'All this over a break up? Get a life, kid.'_

"Her voice is like a beautiful song, and her song makes me soar high in the sky!"

He threw out both arms for emphasis, and rocked back in his stool unsteadily.

"But now…" He sobbed miserably, as if incapable of vocalizing the remainder of his thought.

* * *

**Belonging 2/3**

It was a solid rhythm, he decided, in which they operated. They were a gang, they were a family, they were home. They were everything Tantalus was, and yet everything it wasn't at the same time.

Wherever they went, it was sort of like a single portable unit that provided him with function.

However, Dagger had awoken all kinds of things in him; she was intelligent, she was kind. She was innocent, strong, beautiful, compassionate, and everything else that he couldn't yet fathom.

He loved her. She was home to him, all herself.

Death

He knelt down, silently thinking how perhaps he should've done this when he first saw her, so long ago.

"Your Highness. The abduction is over. I can't take you any further."

He paused.

Her throat tightened like a knot.

"I'm sorry for being so selfish."

She shook her head. "No, You're not being selfish." Her voice became increasingly steady as she spoke.

"You've done so much for us."

He looked up at her. She looked absolutely beautiful- granted she always did, anyway. Her voice was composed of clarity and dignity, as if truly from monarch to subject. Perhaps it was, this time.

"If it weren't for you, I probably would've led a meaningless life. With you, I was able to travel the world and meet so many people. We faced many hardships too, But…"

Typically her sweet words could take him anywhere. For her, he would jump from a cliff to his death, he would slay a thousand beasts in her name, he would rise from the dead, and crawl to her if he had to. The list went on forever. But as long as Kuja was left to die, she couldn't sway him. Right now, she wasn't enough.

"… I think I finally know what's important. I'm so fortunate to have met you, I'll never forget our journey together. Thank you, Zidane."

She choked on the last note- a detail only his ears were trained to hear.

He watched, astonished as she bowed gracefully before him.

"Promise me one thing, please come back."

Minutes later, he watched her fade above him. Tears streaking her face, he knew he was bound to her regardless of his obligations.

He would save Kuja. He would possibly die with Kuja.

Regardless he decided, he would find a way to return to her, alive or otherwise.


	5. Part 5

**The End**

For sixteen, Zidane was pretty accomplished. He had traveled the world twice, engaged in numerous brawls, thieved from vaults otherwise rendered impenetrable, participated in a threesome, successfully kidnapped a Princess, discovered uncharted continents, won the heart of a Queen, and saved the world. If he could say so himself, he would.

But for the moment, this kind of pain made him wish he would just die already.

When he breathed the worst of it was in his ribs, with their paradoxical motions and every breath that swept through a jagged airway, demented from inhalation burns. Such disturbance made him want to cough, yet he suppressed the urge whenever possible, as it created a cruel stabbing sensation throughout his chest.

There was a voice. Kuja? He vaguely felt like he was moving. Could this be what death felt like? Was Kuja dead too?

He cried out at the sickening snap somewhere in one of his limbs that forced more blood into his airway, which encouraged another unbearable cough. His leg. His left leg. Or was it his right?

Someone cursed. The pain was everywhere; it twisted, pulled, stretched, scorched, stabbed, ached, throbbed, pulsated, and pounded his flesh. His body was freezing now, and he felt himself shudder violently.

He couldn't move. He could only open his eyes, and promptly closed them at the sting of blood that pooled from an open laceration above his brow. He'd overheard Dagger once describe the head as being particularly "vascular" and he now had an idea of what that meant.

Dagger… the mere thought of her name elicited an excruciating smile. Where was she now? What was she doing?

How did that song go again?

* * *

**The Beginning**

She sat still in the chair opposite him, watching as he slipped a new shirt over his head, clean white cotton dropped over rows of newly pucked flesh of various shades of crimson, purple, and blue hues.

"What do you intend to find?"

He turned his head over his shoulder. It had been almost eight months since she had retrieved his near-death body from the depths of the Iifa tree, and yet he was still annoyed at the limited range of motion to his limbs.

Mikoto had taken especially careful attention towards him, hardly pausing from his bedside in the meantime. She had left temporarily during the first month to obtain the precious ingredients for the various concoctions that his recovery required, but she otherwise remained in close range to mend his wounds, serve his food, clean his body, and listen to his nonsensical subconscious murmurs.

"I have a promise to keep."

She stared, subtly tilting her head sideways. "A promise?"

"Yeah." He stretched his arms out purposefully, and twisted his torso side to side as if testing the tight resistance of his body's weakened protests.

"I told Dagger I'd come back. I can't just let her down, you know?"

She blinked.

It was Dagger's name she'd heard numerous times throughout his recovery. It was the word he'd cried out in a bloodcurdling fashion (Though it was apparent he didn't recall) during the early stages of his recovery process, when the fracture in his right leg had to be reset, inducing pain into his the crippled flesh from bone splinter fragments grinding together.

"What is Dagger to you?"

"She's everything to me." He replied matter-of-factly.

As she helped him apply the wooden brace around his leg, she couldn't shake the intriguing matter that love was, that it made him do something as crazy and hobble across the world to return to this woman again. She hoped, more than anything, that Dagger would do the same for him.

* * *

**The Hunt**

"Which one is the rarest?"

Old Stan stared. This kid must have lost his mind. He was crazy when he found him on the side of the road those years ago, and still crazy to this date.

"Are you that daft? Why does it matter? Black Opals-"

Zidane shook his head. "Not impressed."

"Why not?" Old Stan narrowed his eyes. Why was he helping this young brute anyway? He noticed several significant pieces from his gem collection missing when they parted ways last time.

"Because," He sighed, scratching . "I need to impress a girl."

Old Stan threw his head back and laughed, snapping the old book in front of him shut.

"In that case, why don't you just use one of those pieces you stole from me last time you were here?" Old Stan crossed the room, carefully scanning the grand bookshelf in search of the text's rightful spot.

"Because she already has everything. I can't give her something she's already got hanging in her closet or something."

"What girl has a Black Opal hanging in her closet?"

"The Queen of Alexandria."

Old Stan snorted. "You intend to propose to the Queen of Alexandria?"

"Yeah."

He laughed heartily, watching the young man scratch his head uncomfortably.

"In that case." He set the book and placed and ran his finger further down the shelf, muttering under his breath. At last, he pulled out another leather bound book, even older than the first.

"The Painite…" He eyed Zidane thoughtfully, flipping through the pages before scanning one in particular, "Is the rarest gem to date. Only one in existence."

He held the text to his visitor gingerly, pointing out the diagram and subtext.

"It'll be impossible for you to obtain, however. It is held by a rather prosperous family, and is very well guarded."

"What does it look like?"

Old Stan sighed impatiently.

"Reddish Brown, I believe. It contains high amounts of iron and-"

Zidane closed the book. "Where do I find one?"

"Did you not hear me before? I said there is only one…"

"Right. So where is it?"

* * *

**Favor**

"Please don't beat me up just yet okay?"

The room was silent.

Baku laughed. "Are you kiddin' me? Looks like Kuja kicked yer ass for me already, boy." He motioned to the puckered flesh up and down the blonde thief's exposed arms.

"Yeah." He followed his boss's gaze and shrugged.

"How're you alive?" Blank blurted, eyes wide. "Regent Cid got word you blew up."

Zidane shrugged. "Yeah. I'm not sure. But anyways," He looked around the room.

"You guys up for another treasure hunt? And one last show together maybe?"

The room was silent and skeptical.

"I want to give Dagger a birthday she won't forget."

Marcus eyed the newly returned comrade as he limped around the room. His right leg was dressed with a wooden brace. He distantly remembered the attention Zidane had rendered to him the time he had a cast on his own arm several years back.

Back from the dead or not, Marcus grinned and proceeded to prod the wooden splint with his sword, eliciting a pained grunt.

Blank chuckled. "Payback's a bitch, huh gimpster?"

* * *

**Stage Fright**

"Prithee, call me 'princess' no more! Marcus, will thou truly cherish me, a King's only daughter? Or is such desire too dear to wish for? After our nuptials, shall I become no more than a puppet? A mindless puppet, never to laugh, never to cry? I wish to live my life under the sky. At times I shall laugh, at others cry. For life is no more insincere than that lived as a masquerade."

His hands were shaking now. Everything was according to plan. He consciously controlled the nervous twitter of his tail- desperate to avoid giving himself away. It wasn't time yet. Freya suggested notifying Dagger eighteen months before. Maybe he could have sent a letter or something, just so she knew he was alive. But then his return would be predictable. And though he'd changed much during the course of his journey, Zidane Tribal was not about to start being predictable.

He knew this script like the back of his hand. Those years of fascination with the words, the hours of pondering and studious comprehension had now paid off. He no longer merely memorize the script- he lived it.

"Could she have betrayed me? Nay, my love ne'er would speak false." He proclaimed the line in flawless prose. "I must have faith!"

This moment was everything. He stood before the nobles of Alexandria and Treno, Freya, Vivi's children, Amarant, Eiko, Quina, Steiner, Regent Cid, Tantalus, and Dagger herself. She would soon be his. He would proclaim it to his audience, and rest of the world, if he could.

"She shall appear only if I believe!"

She was watching his every move now, along with everyone else. He remembered everything- their first meeting in the castle, those delicate, perfect fingers as she clung to him, hanging for dear life while Alexandria crumbled, or the way she'd gripped his dagger to cut her own hair… He grinned to himself. She was going to kill him when she got the chance.

"As the sun lends me no ear, I pray instead to the twin moons!"

He wished nothing more than to look at her, and nothing else. He was sweating profusely under the dark cloak. He controlled his breathing steadily. His tail was twitching more furiously now, although remained concealed.

"I beseech thee, wondrous moonlight, grant my only wish!"

His words captivated his audience with every syllable. Some were aware of his charade while others weren't. They were his own truth, with every sense of rawness and clarity.

He gripped the edges of the fabric in preparation for his stunt.

_'Everything's cool, Everything's cool, Everything's cool…'_

He pulled. The single movement was soothing, as his sweat slicked body gracefully soaked the evening's cool air upon it.

"Bring my beloved Dagger to me!"

Everything was still for a moment. He watched her lips part slightly at first, and her body swung limply to the edge of the balcony above him, as if debating throwing herself off it completely. Her mouth dropped.

Silence. Hushed, confused mutters surfaced from nowhere. Then some drunken onlooker cheered obnoxiously.

He watched, beaming as she turned from him, running through the doors opened by Steiner and Beatrix.

More cheering ensued as the audience gradually caught on in a grand crescendo. Although some silent and puzzled stares continued.

The great doors opened behind the crowd that was before him. She was there, somewhere. He walked across the stage and scanned the crowd.

A moment later she surfaced again, politely parting the crowd around her in a desperate fight to get to him. She was impossible to miss now, as she appeared impeccably polished among her surroundings.

His heart was doing that crazy rhythm again.

His strides across the deck of the theater ship were wider now, and she was now sprinting towards him, lifting her tiara from her long, ebony locks, and throwing it callously to the ground.

He opened his arms wide, ready to receive her.


	6. Epilogue

"Uh… hey."

Zidane awkwardly shuffled in the doorway of the study, unsure of how to approach such an occasion; he'd never been involved in an interview before.

The man opposite him squinted through thick framed spectacles.

"Your Highness," He greeted the Alexandrian King, standing from the white pinstriped satin and dark oak seat in which he'd patiently waited. He had been looking forward to this afternoon for quite some time, as private audiences with such high authorities were never easy to come by. But he'd heard this young King was a different breed.

Zidane cringed, waving his hands dismissively. Formalities made him uncomfortable. "You don't have to do that. I'm going to stand though, okay? You can sit if you want." He'd learned from experience (and the vigorous chiding of his wife) that informal manners threw people off, unless he gave his audience a heads up beforehand.

"Very well." The elderly man sat on queue and smiled at the young monarch, folding pale wrinkled hands in his lap. "I expect you've been informed of the reason for this meeting?"

Zidane leaned against the cold marble of the book shelves behind him, hands sliding subconsciously into neatly pressed pockets, tail waving freely. "Not really. Just that you wanted to talk, I guess."

The old man chuckled. "That's right. My name is Doctor Rede, and I'm a colleague of Doctor Tot's. He mentioned he's met with you on several occasions. Are you aware of my work, milord?"

Zidane quietly moved a hand to his hair, grazing his scalp almost nervously. "No, I guess I'm not."

Dr. Rede chuckled. The sincerity of this young lad was quite endearing. What he had heard was true.

"I'm a mere historian of sorts. I collect data from various civilizations. Of course, in my latest years I've taken to more recent and more local history." His eyes glazed excitedly. "I've written several texts concerning several world renowned figures. Namely Regent Cid Fabool, Minister Artania, the late Queen Brahnne. And I've taken quite an interest in yourself, milord."

Zidane's mouth dropped. "In me?" He sputtered his words almost incoherently, frantically searching for a loophole. "I-I'm not…. Dagger's your girl. She's so much better than this stuff than I am-" His blue eyes pleaded enticingly. Dr Rede was only furthermore intrigued by his reluctance. Most Nobles he'd known would vie for his attentions.

"I beg to differ. The choice is not mine alone though, so I'm afraid if you do not support this than my work cannot continue."

Zidane sighed, tail never ceasing it's fluent movements. "I'm sorry. I guess I'll give it a chance." He moved to the seat before him, sinking down into the soft cushion, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the edges of his knees. "What do you want to know?"

Dr. Rede grinned, pleased with the King's compliance. He shuffled through the notebook in front of him, watching the former thief's eyes skim every page, before he finally set in back down onto the carved ivory table between them.

"Look's like you got a lot done already." Zidane mused.

Dr. Rede adjusted the frames of his spectacles. "I had to start somewhere."

"Where's somewhere?"

"Oh, I always begin with known relatives and close friends. They help me get a picture of the person before we meet."

Zidane stared, puzzled. "So… who did you go to?"

Dr. Rede chuckled. "No one that I haven't heard about upon hearsay. Tantalus was a start. They didn't have much to say to me, however. Lady Eiko of Lindbulm, Freya of Burmecia, The black mage Vivi-"

"You talked to Vivi?"

Dr. Rede nodded. "Yes. I heard he passed away shortly after, my condolences. He was quite the young man."

"Yeah" Zidane agreed sadly, "He was.".

"And we'll get to that. But to start-" He'd chosen his beginning topic cautiously every time, is it often dictated the remainder of the discussion. Scanning the study, his eyes settled on the large framed portrait to his right. It was quite magnificent. Soft brush strokes depicted the current Queen Garnet Alexandros in all of her splendor, ebony waves gracefully framing ivory skin and gown. Her face was depicted sweet and angelic, yet firm and powerful.

"Tell me about this 'Dagger'. I've heard all kinds of speculation among common folk. Who is she?"

"She's my wife.". Zidane grinned, watching the old man's eyes wander over the portrait. It was his favorite. Just looking at his made him yearn for her company, but she had practically pushed him off of her to see Dr. Rede. Apparently, this was that important to her.

"She gave herself that name when I um, kidnapped her."

Dr. Rede now eyed the weapons that were so infamously located at the King's belt. "Interesting. Why do you think she picked such a name?"

Zidane shrugged. "I'm not sure, myself. It's something you have to ask her, I guess."

"I suppose it is. That explains it." He murmured to himself, thinking of the most famous rendition of 'I Want To Be Your Canary', performed three summers prior.

"So where was your start?"

Zidane cleared his throat. "My… life or Dagger?"

"Pick one, milord."

It was an evening of sadness, longing, and laughter. A bottle or two was opened, and glasses poured accordingly. The embers of the fire died slowly and the young King was soon laying lazily sideways on the chair, barefoot, sleeves unbuttoned and pushed past his elbows. His tail twitched absently when he spoke, and his eyes wandered aimlessly when he thought.

Dr. Tot had been right. It was most intriguing, he thought, that such a young lad who had supposedly been sentenced to conduct world destruction feel so compelled to do the exact opposite.

"How is it that a man raised among renowned criminals grows to be a nation's leader?" The scholar inquired at last.

Zidane laughed. "That's a good question. I don't know."

"Well, from your point of view, how did it happen?"

The King pondered for a moment, hands drumming against his empty crystal wine glass, eyes flickering here and there about the dark wooden panels of the room.

"I told you how I kidnapped Dagger," He started, and paused again.

"… Since that first moment I saw her, I probably would've done anything for her."

Dr. Rede raised his white, bushy eyebrows skeptically.

"… And then I got to know Vivi and Steiner, and reunited with Freya, and met Quina, Eiko, and Amarant. We all learned so much from each other. I'll never be able to return what they did for me."

His memory offered him of glimpse of that now distant time, clinging his arms to his chest at night, shivering for warmth, frantically combating Freya for the finishing strike, despite the protests of thier companions, longing for Dagger's blouse to fall lower on her chest, throwing back his head and laughing before a campfire…

"And then…?"

"And then when it came down to it, Kuja was the single threat to my friends, and everything they loved. I saw what happened to Dagger when Alexandria fell…"

"What happened to her?"

Zidane stiffened uncomfortably, knuckles gripping his glass tight.

"I can't explain it. She became so detached. She couldn't concentrate for very long, and she lost the ability to talk…"

"She became mute?" Dr. Rede was astounded. He'd heard of various instances of such an occurrence, yet the idea of it happening to Her Highness seemed so unbelievable.

"Yeah. For a long time. She was always so sad, and there was nothing we could do. There was nothing I could do. So we continued."

He paused again. followed his stare to the portrait, noting how the blonde man's entire body seemed angled in his beloved Queen's direction.

"…And after Kuja was gone, I felt like I had found and lost my only brother in one big catastrophe. And I realized that if something could keep me alive, then it must be something worth while."

"What kept you alive?"

"Dagger. She was there from the start, and it just made sense. I couldn't just die when she was out there somewhere, waiting for me."

"So you waited until the performance to say anything? Did she have a clue?"

Zidane grinned "No. Everyone else did, though. Performances before high ranking people always need booking in advance."

Dr. Rede nodded. "That's true."

"So in the meantime I got her a ring."

Of course. The scholar heard rumor that the Queen had mysteriously acquired such a gem that was foreign to the Alexandros lineage. "The Painite. Did you intend to propose right then?"

"I'm not sure. I just wanted to give her something from me, so she could have it to keep, even if she didn't want me hanging around."

"So you didn't intend to become King in that point in time."

"No, I never did. I only wanted her." He eyed the scholar critically before adding slyly, "A Tantalus always gets what he sets his eyes on.".

The remark cracked a smile on Dr. Rede's lips, as the rawness of youthful vigor never failed to amuse him. "And so you did."

"I did. But I don't think love alone keeps people together."

"You mean romantically. Yes?"

Zidane cocked his head sideways for a moment. "Yeah- well no not always. Love in general." He leaned forward, setting the glass on table. "At least for me. Soon after we were reunited we loved each other, but it wasn't enough. We needed something more."

"What was that?"

Zidane reminisced to himself for a moment fervently- remembering the warm, comfortable afternoons with brilliant colored gardens, and how he'd kissed her after she ran to him, tasting of salty tears and fine wine, her laughter, spilling from her lovely eyes and her lips when he'd said something ridiculous…

"I get her, you know? Like the back of my hand." He hands his palms before his face, as if for emphasis.

Dr. Rede leaned in closer, waiting for the answer.

"She loves her people so much, you wouldn't believe it. I had to feel that kind of intensity myself in order to stay in her world, so I did."

"You mean, you had to love them too?"

"Yeah." He stood up again, pacing the room excitedly this time. "But I never could've done it without everyone that helped me along the way. Boss, Vivi, Kuja, Mikoto… everyone. I couldn't name them if I tried."

Dr. Rede inhaled slowly. This interview had gone far deeper than he'd intended.

"As King of Alexandria, if you could say anything to all the people of this world, what would it be?"

Zidane stopped and raised an eyebrow. "What kind of question is that?"

Dr. Rede shrugged. "I typically conclude my interviews with that kind of question. You can take it as you like, even it that's without answer."

Zidane crossed his arms, now ruled with uneven creases in the fabric that had been so carefully pressed and arranged, his tail never ceasing it's movement.

"I guess I would say…" He trailed off and closed his eyes.

What would I say? This question wasn't only corny- it was tough. But he knew the answer in the back of his mind. He lived it through the woes of the black mages and demise of his own creator.

"…that I wish you all a long and happy life." He finished simply.

When Dr. Rede retired to bed later that night at his Alexandrian accommodations, he pondered on his own question he had asked the King earlier that evening.

_"How is it that a man raised among renowned criminals grows to be a nation's leader?"_

He was given a rather earnest and refreshing answer, however it seemed tedious and intricate, that a man had undergone such turmoil and trials to obtain such a position, and yet noble men were born to his same entitlements every day (to include himself).

It was his conclusion that in a man's quest for money, or love, or world peace, or whatever, a man must thoroughly divide himself among the scaffolds of his surroundings, and only then can he truly discover his place in the world.

That was the last thought he managed before consciousness sifted into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Like I said in the first part, this fic is almost a decade old but I'm just posting it here for the first time. Will hopefully have some proper writing for this fandom up soon!


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